Maiden, Mother and Crone
by rooty-boots
Summary: An accompanying little sisterfic to Francienyc's fabulous The Artist's Tale Queen Susan and Queen Lucy go shopping and meet with their adoring public. Along the way, a prophecy is made, and Edmund is denied what is rightfully his! Pevensie fluff x x x


"Susan, are you nearly ready to go?" Queen Lucy entered her sister's rooms, tying her cape around her own shoulders, her face smooth and bright with the expectation of an enjoyable afternoon. "Almost..." Her elder sister sat at her dressing table putting on her earrings as Meriam, Susan's lady's maid stood behind her, her rough fingers deftly setting another pretty little braid in her mistress' glossy black hair. Susan turned a little and smiled distractedly, half her mind absorbed with searching for the tiny hole in her ear lobe; a moment later, she efficiently stabbed the sharp little hook through and her expression cleared. Then she looked her sister over, the dark eyebrows lifting as she nodded her approval: "You look nice. Is that a new riding habit?"

Lucy's cheeks flushed a little as she looked down at herself and the simple green shift she was wearing. Running a hand absently through her own rumpled blonde curls, she said: "No, it's one of your old ones. Don't you remember it?" To this, Susan shrugged and turned back to the mirror, pinching her cheeks and biting her lips methodically to redden them before getting up. "No. Oh dear, that's not really my colour, is it? Perhaps _that's_ why I've forgotten it! But it looks lovely on you." As Meriam went to fetch Susan's cloak, her mistress reached out to straighten the neckline of her sister's gown, saying: "And the cape goes so well with it. Are you sure you'll be warm enough though? It's getting a little chilly out."

Lucy wrinkled her nose and rolled her eyes at this. "I've been outside all morning! It's fine. In fact, it's _lovely. _It's just the breeze that makes it feel cold, but it's not really." Looking over Susan's long sleeved blue velvet gown and woollen autumn cloak, she added: "You'll be too warm, if anything." Susan pulled her cape about her and shook her head with a little shudder. "You and Peter always say that, and I never am. When I opened my window this morning, I almost _perished_. I might even ask them to light my fire tonight. Next time I go into Lionshaim, I'll probably take the carriage - summer is well and truly over, it would seem."

Lucy frowned a little and folded her arms: "But not today! You promised we could ride. And Willem's already saddled Alambil and Aravir. You can't let them think they're going out and then leave them behind, it's cruel..." At her sister's outburst, Susan laughed and held up her hands. "Alright! Alright... I said _next_ time. I know I promised." Lucy's posture relaxed and then she giggled at herself, catching Susan's hand and giving her sister a little squeeze. "Good. I'm sure the exercise will warm you up, anyway. What is it we're going to get, again?"

As the two sisters began to walk down towards the front gates, Susan ticked off what she needed on her fingers, her voice low with hushed excitement. "Well, I'm assuming he'll need paints, but I don't really know what colours, so I thought I'd just get all of them, and then he can choose. Oils _and _watercolours. And then I thought he might want some pencils, you know, with different leads, and then maybe some coloured ones for sketching. And some pastels, and a few sketchbooks and lots of different canvases. He'll need a really big one for Peter's portrait, but I expect we'll have to have that ordered..."

As they neared the war room, Lucy nodded eagerly and put in: "Yes. And we should get him a really nice box or chest to put everything in - one that he can carry about with him so he can paint outside. I've only seen him do portraits so far, but I'd love to see him do some landscapes. I could show him a _million_ beautiful places to paint. The Dancing Lawn, and the view from the beach, and the trees look just _heavenly_ at the moment... in fact, I might commission a few pictures myself! Do you think he would?" Without waiting for an answer, Lucy grabbed hold of her sister's arm and squeaked urgently, the moment the thought came to her: "Ooh! And _paint brushes!_ We mustn't forget them, or he won't be able to do anything at all!"

Susan gasped and quickly drew her shopping list out of her bodice, leaning the paper on the wall to scribble this down. "Thank the Lion for you, Lucy! I hadn't even thought of paint-brushes... What an idiot! I did think though about getting him one of those stands to put the canvas on while he's painting, a really nice one. But I can't remember what they're called, can you?" As so often happens when somebody fires a question at us, Lucy found her mind momentarily blank, and she raised her eyes to the ceiling trying to feel for the word which sat just at the end of her tongue.

"Easy... easel." Edmund said dryly, as he stood in the open doorway of the war room, his arms folded across his chest. Lucy narrowed her eyes at her brother's superior little grin, but Susan smiled gratefully, and said only: "Thanks," writing this down on her list too. "I would have looked a right fool in the shop, calling it a 'stand'." Edmund nodded in bland agreement, and then wrinkled his nose at Lucy, giving her a playful little push. "Oh don't look so thunderous, you know I'm only joking. I take it you're off to get Lord Peridan's art supplies then?"

Tucking the list back in her bodice, Susan nodded and handed the pencil automatically to her brother, a collector of such things, who tucked it immediately behind his ear. As there was already another pencil behind his other ear, this gave him the rather comical appearance of an absent minded professor, or as Lucy giggled, coming behind him to wiggle the pencils like antennae: "You look like a satyr! Or a _beautiful _snail!" Edmund flushed and reached up, feeling at his makeshift horns before breaking into a laugh and whipping the pencils away to poke at his little sister with them: "And _you_ would look good with your head on a spike! Come here!"

As Lucy squealed and darted away behind Susan, sticking her tongue out at Edmund from behind her protector, their eldest brother emerged from the war room looking rather perturbed by the noise. "What's going on? Ed, I thought you said you were just getting a drink? We've got loads to do, come on..." As he saw the girls, Peter ran his hand through his hair and gave them a tired smile. "Oh, hello. Going somewhere?"

Giving Lucy (who was still capering and thumbing her nose at Edmund) a quelling little glance, Susan nodded and said: "Yes. We're going into Lionshaim to get Lord Peridan's surprise." Peter smiled vaguely in response, but his cheeks flushed a little and he shifted uncomfortably at the thought of having to sit for another portrait any time soon. The last time had been excruciating enough. This new young artist was certainly more talented than the moustachioed virtuoso from Galma, but still, he could not say he was looking forward to it. He had to admit though that it was nice to see his sister so enthused about something, so he was not about to complain if it made her so happy. Having Lord Peridan and his pictures around had made Susan happier than she had appeared in almost a year.

"Do you need anything from town while we're there?" she asked him, and Peter rubbed his eyes a bit. "You could get me some more of that headache cure from the market, if the herb lady's there. I forget what it's called. I think it begins with an 'F'." "Feverfew," Susan nodded, and whipped a pencil back out of Edmund's prodding hand to write this down. "No problem. Are you not feeling well?" Peter rubbed his head again and distractedly held Edmund by the collar to pull him back as he made a jab towards Lucy with his remaining weapon. "I'm alright. Just... headachey." Susan gave him a sympathetic smile and tapped the pencil on her teeth. "Anything else?"

Peter shook his head, so Susan turned to her other brother. "Edmund?" Prising Peter's hand off him, Edmund pulled his attention from the covert battle with his youngest sister and said promptly: "Blank sheet music. And some of those nice sticky things that we had in Archenland, if you can find them. The almond cake things." Peter gave him a little prod, prompting: "Please," to which Edmund rolled his eyes, echoing his brother impatiently.

With a little sigh, Susan handed the pencil back and slipped her arm through Lucy's. "Right, we'd better go, or the shops will be shut before we even get there. We'll see you later. Don't work too hard." Peter nodded and gave a preoccupied little smile before going back inside the room. Edmund, however, lingered in the doorway, watching his sisters' retreat. Just as they were about to turn the corner and descend the steps to the entrance hall, he called after them: "Hey, Susan... I thought of something else you should get him." The girls halted at the end of the corridor and Susan turned on her heel, raising her brows in query: "Really?" Edmund nodded awkwardly and found his cheeks turning rather hot, to his disgust. "Yes. Paint thinner. I... read it was important for painters, and I expect you would have forgotten it, knowing you..." Susan laughed. "Edmund, I've never even _heard_ of it! Are you sure you're not just making it up so I look stupid in the art shop?" Lucy giggled, but to both girls' surprise, Edmund didn't crack a smile or a joke. He simply frowned and looked down at the pencil in his hands, saying rather testily: "Fine. Be that way. I was only trying to help." Then he turned on his heel and went back into the war room, shutting the door with a decided snap.

Lucy looked up at Susan, and between them, they exchanged a look of surprise. Susan bit her lip anxiously, but Lucy only shrugged and pulled on her arm with a reproving little sniff. "Don't mind him. I think he's going through his _difficult_ phase. Teenage boys are so _moody_, don't you think?" Thirteen year old Lucy's knowing, world weary air caused her sister to giggle and forget Edmund's petulance, and she gave Lucy's arm a grateful little squeeze. "Yes, I _do_ think. But then, Lord Peridan's proof enough that not _all _boys their age are like that." Lucy shrugged again: "Oh, never mind. Come on, let's go."

Laughing a little together over the inscrutability of men, the two young girls ran smoothly down the stairs and out of the front door to where Willem the groom held their horses ready for them. Alambil, Susan's dappled grey mare stood quietly, flicking her ears in the late autumn sunlight, but Aravir, Lucy's pretty little rose-brown pony gave out a high little whinny of delight at the sight of her mistress. Lucy herself returned the greeting in human-kind, running up to nuzzle Aravir's nose and feed her a sugar lump. "Hello, my beautiful girl. Are you ready to go? I'm _ever_ so sorry to make you wait. It was all Edmund's fault."

Susan smiled serenely and ran a gloved hand over Alambil's flank, before extending her hand to Willam who stood ready to help her up. Putting her neat little foot into his cupped hands, she swung gracefully up into her side-saddle, taking up the reins and holding them loosely, leaning forward to pat her horse's neck with affection. Lucy required no such aid, and would have been insulted to have it offered, so Willem, (who had been with the family since he himself was Lucy's age and so knew their ways), stood back and went off to see to it that the gate was open in readiness for the Queens' departure. At a gentle word of reproach from Susan, Lucy, who was still showering her horse with kisses, finally desisted, and mounted Aravir lightly, one slim little leg hanging down on either side of her horse's sleek flanks; then they were off.

The ride to Lionshaim was pleasant enough, an easy canter through open countryside, with the sea on one side and fields on the other, and all the while Cair Paravel behind them, glowing like a pearl. The sisters talked little as they rode. They would have had to shout, for the salty sea-breeze whistled in their ears, and besides, there was so much of beauty to observe in the firey leaves and blackberry thickets, laden with glossy fruits, that neither felt much like talking. As they came to the first few houses which marked the end of the wilds and a return to civilisation, a great shoal of birds wheeled overhead on their way south to winter in Calormen, and as Lucy called out and pointed upwards, and Susan looked up to see them, the great expanse of the sky made her feel almost dizzy. She was rather glad to have her attention brought back to earth by the first cry of recognition from the ground.

"Hail! Queen Lucy! Queen Susan!" Susan smiled down from her saddle and sat up straighter as the people and animals began to emerge from their little houses. Lucy was already bent low over her horse's neck, reaching down to grasp an outstretched hand, her face lit up with pleasure. Even Aravir began almost to strut, tossing her head proudly with all the attention. Alambil, however, did not like crowds, and the mare began to sidle nervously as the townsfolk pressed closer. Susan tightened the reins a little to check her, but her smile faltered a little and her heart started to beat harder in her chest.

Lucy's attention was fixed purely on the women and old men and children who stood closest, their faces upturned and smiling; a second later, she was off her horse and down among them, laughing merrily and handing out kisses and Aravir's sugar lumps the the little ones, without a backward glance. Susan, always a little slower, remained on her mount and looked about her, A little further off, beyond Lucy and the children, a small cluster of young men had begun to gather outside the local alehouse, where they had obviously been resident until very recently. Their blinking eyes slipped over the heads of the crowd and came to rest upon Susan, who suddenly began to feel terribly high up and exposed on her horse alone. One of the men let out a low whistle, so low that she wondered if she had imagined it, but even if she had, the strange, glazed, hungry look in their eyes was enough to pull Susan down from her horse and into the anonymous crowd. As she slid down from Alambil's back, she found herself caught in midair by a pair of strong hands at her waist, and then lowered carefully to the ground. The man who had touched her smiled slowly, and doffed his cap, with as low a bow as he could manage in the press of bodies around them. "Forgive me, your Majesty. My name is Gaven. Please... I am at your service."

"You are very kind," Susan answered, automatically, extricating her hand from his as daintily as possible and feeling back for Alambil's reins in the crush of people. A moment later, the man called Gaven reached past her, leaning close before drawing back with a smile on his lips and the fine leather reins between his fingers. These he pressed into Susan's hand, saying: "Allow me to help you, my Queen." He looked so intently at Susan then that she felt sure she must be flushing, but in truth, her very blood felt icy and her cheeks were pale as paper. "Thank you," she said, stiffly, and with a small smile, she turned away from Gaven and into the warmth of Alambil's body, gripping the reins tightly in her fist as she sought for her sister's golden head in the crowd.

Lucy was a short way off, a little boy slung on her hip, beaming up at the child's elder sister who sat perched proudly on Aravir's back. As Susan, leading her horse behind her, picked her way through the crowd, smiling left and right and trying to remain calm lest her disquiet should further unsettle Alambil, she felt a hand grasp her arm. Hoping fervently that it was not Gaven again, she closed her eyes and turned, remembering to hitch up a smile as she did so. After all, he was harmless enough, and no ill could possibly befall her here in the thick of her own people. She told herself it was only the closeness of the crowd which made her heart beat so.

She needn't have worried. The hand belonged to an apple-cheeked old woman with a baby in her arms. Susan breathed easy again, and a real smile broke across her face as the woman proffered the child, surely no more than a few weeks old, saying: "Won't you hold him, your Majesty? For luck... He's an early babe, but I know if you kiss him, he'll grow strong off it."

Letting out a soft little gasp of pleasure, Susan nodded and held out her arms, unable to take her eyes off the tiny, rosy little face. The baby was positively minute, but every inch of him seemed to her to be perfection, and a more potent scrap of evidence that hope had returned to Narnia could surely not be found anywhere. Brushing the child's velvety head with her fingers, she bent low and touched her lips to his soft little cheek, breathing in the scent of him which seemed to go to her head like wine. The crowd melted away, and for a brief, long moment, there was hush and stillness; her rapid heartbeat slowed down to a dreamy, comforting thud.

A hard hand laid on her belly brought the world sharply back into focus. The crowd's murmur started up again, louder than before, and Susan stared down at the withered hand, startled. It was the child's grandmother, and she was smiling as she gave Susan's stomach a little rub. Seeing the Queen's alarm, the old woman explained: "For luck, my dear. In return." Susan passed the baby back with a tense look of discomfort, tears prickling inexplicably behind her eyes, and glanced about for her sister, but just in that moment, Lucy was nowhere to be found, lost somewhere in the crowd. Susan tried not to panic, remembering vaguely another time when she was a child, and Lucy had gone missing in a press of people. Except this time, it was not for her younger sister that Susan feared, but for herself.

The old lady, rather crestfallen by her reaction, peered at Susan with a sad and anxious look in her eyes, saying gently: "I meant no harm, your Majesty," to which Susan tried her best to smile, but she had to ask: "Why did you do that? I don't know what you mean..." The grandmother smiled and visibly relaxed, grateful for a chance to explain herself. "As I said, Queen Susan - for luck. I would that you have as many blessings as Aslan has seen fit to give me. This here is my youngest daughter's first-born son. We call him Peter." Susan smiled at this, and touched her knuckles to baby Peter's cheek. But still, she was confused, and the lady must have seen it, for she continued: "I am a mother of seven living children... Just as your touch will make little Pete grow strong, my touch on your belly was my blessing. T'will make you bear strong, healthy babies, one after another, when your time comes. All of Narnia longs for that day."

Susan swallowed, aridly, and though she willed a smile to her face, it would not come. She opened her mouth to speak, and her voice was cracked with dryness. "That day may be some time away, I'm afraid." At this, the woman whickered with laughter and gave the baby a squeeze. "Nay, your Majesty. Look at you, you're in the very bloom of your maidenhood, and every noble man from here to the edge of the known world would kill for your hand. You're ready." Susan shook her head numbly, and looked about for Lucy, breathing a sigh of relief as she picked out her sister's golden curls, weaving their way back through the crowd. Following the Queen's gaze, the old lady turned her head and smiled at the sight of Lucy's merry face, before reaching out and laying her warm hand again, low on Susan's belly, murmuring a well-meant blessing close to her ear. "Mark my words, your Majesty... Your sister there is the hope for the Narnia of today. But the Narnia of tomorrow, the Narnia of my little grandson... It's hope lives deep within you. I know you will not fail us. You are the Mother of all Narnia."

With a smile and a final caress, the old woman melted away into the crowd, taking little Peter back to her happy daughter's arms. Susan could not breathe. Her back, hard up against Alambil's warm flank, was sweating, and her fine velvet dress was clinging and damp. When Lucy touched her arm, she almost jumped out of her skin.

"Su? Are you alright?" Lucy peered anxiously into her sister's waxy face. "I... I'm fine. It's just the crowd." Lucy looked confused. Here, in the thick of the Narnian people, she was in her element. "What about them?" Susan met her sister's innocent, troubled gaze, and all of a sudden she felt guilty and rather silly. She shook her head. "Nothing really. Just... it's so close. You were right, I _ am _too hot after all." Lucy smiled and squeezed Susan's hand. "See? Nobody ever listens to a_ word_ I tell them, but I _am _right, some of the time."

Susan smiled and stroked Lucy's cheek. Then Lucy cupped her hands and tossed Susan back up into her saddle with a grin. It was cooler up there, and the men from the alehouse had gone back inside or gotten bored and slipped away elsewhere. Susan let out a small sigh of relief and took up Alambil's reins as she saw Lucy haul herself up onto her own horse's back. In a high, clear voice, her sister called: "People of Narnia, my sister and I love you all very dearly, but we really _must_ be on our way and about our business, else all the shops will be wanting to close, and neither Susan nor I should like to keep some poor shopkeeper from his dinner a moment longer than necessary. Aslan be with you all."

As Lucy gave one last wave and nudged Aravir forward, Susan sat still in her seat, her legs pressed tightly together, taking a moment to admire the self-possessed woman her little sister was becoming. This was the same child who fought her brother and giggled, and did not want to eat her vegetables. The same child who cried over sad stories, and hid secret pet mice in her underwear drawer, and who jumped into Susan's bed on cold mornings simply for the delight of hearing her sister squeal at the touch of her frigid toes. This was her sister, the child she had raised, a queen.

As Alambil began to move forward, following her own sister of her own accord, Susan looked sideways and her eyes met with the withered old face of the grandmother in the crowd. Somehow, her prediction did not feel so fearful just now. Susan did not know if this was because of the distance between them, but strangely, she felt a kinship with the old woman, as she did with Lucy. Some thread seemed to bind them together, the maiden, the crone, and the mother... The mother of all Narnia. She tried to imagine herself in ten years time, surrounded by a brood of royal children, and for a moment the picture was utterly clear and almost real. Perhaps the woman was right. Perhaps her destiny lay in finding happiness through her children, and in raising them to love Narnia and the Narnians. Perhaps that was her purpose. Only the children's father remained a mystery, his face clouded from view.

This strange feeling lasted until the two sisters turned the corner, and left the crowd behind. Out of sight, Lucy spurred her horse into a sprightly little canter and broke out into a gale of unqueenly laughter, a thirteen year old child once more. Susan smiled, and spurred Alambil, urging her placid mount to catch up. "Come on, Su! Let's go and get Edmund his precious almond cakes, and then eat every last one of them on the ride home! He doesn't deserve them, for being such a cross-patch with you. But if he's lucky, I might just buy him a new _pencil_ from the art shop."


End file.
